Unchained
by Capricious Contessa
Summary: When Dracula decides to play another one of his "games", this time he's playing for keeps. The prize? A new bride. Can Van Helsing arrive in time to stop this madness, or will another innocent soul join the ranks of the undead? Reviews would be lovely
1. Winter Wonderland

**(Author's Note: This takes place 5 years before the movie. This is one of Van Helsing's previous missions.)**

Snow was quietly falling, covering the distant Carpathians in a blanket of white. A carriage ambled along the windy paths that sliced through the thick Romanian forest. The cabbie driver coughed and shivered slightly. He regretted that he had forgotten to remind his wife to mend his coat before he embarked. In addition, Old Man Winter had shown no sign of relenting, only lashing out even more aggressively with his icy fingers. The two passengers inside, although covered in a heavy mink blanket, didn't seem to be faring any better. The woman, who was seated next to the window, was watching the snow with her lackluster gray eyes. She pulled her shawl more snugly around her thin shoulders, but it did little to keep out the omnipresent chill that seem to have taken up permanent residence in her bones.

It was obvious to anyone that Moira DeCicco did not look well. Her companion, a handsome lad in his mid twenties, offered her his coat, which Moira declined with a polite smile and a gentle shake of her head. Viktor shrugged and sighed heavily. He picked up his novel again and kept one eye on the current page and the other on Moira. She looked so fragile....like a baby bird. Of course, she had not always been this way. Viktor had known Moira since practically infancy. She was the closest thing he had to a sister, growing up in a family with 3 brothers and no sisters and he thought of Moira as the balance in the raucous mix. Moira, a few weeks ago, had confided in him her condition. It was medically diagnosed as schizophrenia. What Moira heard tortured her mind and crushed her spirit. Worst of all, she knew nothing of peaceful moments of silence.

She'd been using the excuse of a chest cold at first. To explain her late confinement to her friends. Then she switched to the guise of scarlet fever as her condition worsened. He had agreed to accompany her on their journey. This whole journey was also a lie. It became perfectly clear that they had fumbled for an excuse when they had told Moira's friends that they were traveling to Italy, now that Moira had recovered. It wasn't the best lie, but surprisingly her friends didn't ask questions. Sure, there was probably bound to be tons of gossip and speculation, but there were too many more pressing matters to attend to.

The reason for their visit to frigid Romania was that they had heard of a Transylvanian monk who had a cure for her "ailment". Well, Viktor knew there was none. However, he wanted to humor her, and he would take any alternative to putting her in an asylum. Viktor hated seeing her like this, always looking around wide eyed as if some distant ominous shadow were hiding someplace only she could see, or sitting placidly, staring blankly ahead, and saying nothing at all. The voices had starting speaking to her about a month ago, after her parents had been killed in a mysterious train wreck. They all blamed her, and she believed them.

Viktor couldn't help but pity her, but, sometimes her condition was a bit irksome. As much as he loved and cared about Moira, he couldn't always be there to take care of her. She was an orphan, but also a legal adult. At 24, she should be able to stand on her own. By society's standards she should be married, pregnant, with a rosy glow in her cheeks and a husband by her side Viktor had thought about proposing to her numerous times...but his cowardice always won in the end.

Moira's personality was as much a contributing factor to her illness as it was to her reaction to it. Moira was a bit of an apathetic person. She was quick to make irrational decisions, and then to regret them later. She had a habit of taking things far too seriously, and could never, no matter how hard she tried, push past them. Moira had taken parents' deaths to heart far more than a normal person should, and had dwelled upon them for so long that that dark day had become permanently imprinted on her memory. Now, her whole body was caught up in a whirlwind of excitement and it depressed her and made her more and more ill with each passing day. Her body had lost the will to try and restore itself back to health, and her mind had lost the will to convince her to get help on her own, and now Viktor was the one who had to seek help for her. Moira's condition, was partly her own fault, and as much as Viktor hated to admit it, he couldn't just ignore the awful truth that was glaring him in the face.

//

Marishka and Aleera were taking an idle stroll around Castle Dracula. Both had the sourest of expressions plastered to their faces.

"This is so utterly unfair!" Aleera whined, stamping her foot childishly. Marishka gave her a bitter half-smile. "First of all, please, please don't whine. It's extremely unattractive. Second of all, I understand your annoyance. We _were_ here first after all."

"Why does he need another bride?" Aleera asked sulkily, not even noticing that Marishka had chided her. "Aren't _we _good enough?" Marishka shook her head. "Of course not Aleera, we're _never _enough. Nothing is good enough for the Master." Aleera stopped walking. "I hear he's going to choose a mortal bride by some sick sort of trial." Marishka nodded. "I too, have heard that rumor. Something involving cyanide. If this is truly what he plans to do, it should turn out to be a very interesting spectacle indeed."

"I do feel a bit sorry for the mortal girl who has to undergo the transformation. I have vivid, awful memories of mine." Aleera said coldly. "Yes, but you're forgetting the Master will do anything to get what he wants. Even if it means putting someone else through a painful punishment." Marishka replied truthfully. Aleera couldn't argue with that, and bit her lip, falling silent. Marishka flicked the small, silver fluer de lys charm that hung from a red ribbon around her neck. "Nothing can be done. We must simply wait and see." She said, and headed off in the direction of her room. "Oh, how I loathe waiting." Aleera said, running her hand across a tapestry, as she meandered down the corridor, making sure to let her sharp nails catch on each and every thread. Marishka turned around and smirked at her. "Patience is a virtue, dear Aleera. One that you do well to put into practice." Aleera scowled and removed her hand from the tapestry. She despised Marishka's elitist attitude.

//

Three hours later, the carriage ride had gradually grown rougher. The gently falling snow had escalated into a blizzard. The wind whistled shrilly and whipped against the side of the carriage, startling Moira.

Victor tucked the blanket more closely around her and peered out the window. Every inch of formerly green forest was covered in a blanket of white. This did not look promising. "Are we nearly there yet?" Moira asked weakly. "No." Viktor replied. "We still have quite a ways to go my dear. This blizzard isn't making things any easier." Moira sighed. "Oh dear....it always seems that our plans have some way of backfiring on us." Viktor smiled at her. "Don't despair Moira. We will probably reach the monastery before nightfall. We did get a very early start after all." Moira nodded and managed a tiny smile. "Yes, of course. We mustn't give up hope." She yawned, closed her eyes, and fell asleep learning against Viktor, who didn't mind in the least.


	2. Perfect Plans

The Count was sitting placidly in his study. For four hundred years, it had been his daily prison. He had already pored through all of the books in his expansive library at least a dozen times. He hardly needed to revisit any one of them, what with his photographic memory. It allowed him to recite the information by rote from any given page within any given book. Pools of wax from many late nights and early mornings spent reading clung steadfastly to his many bookshelves and his large, carved oak desk. Ever since Aleera, his latest bride had taken up residence at his castle, he had had no real interaction with mortals. He'd been lazy, and made his brides and servants fetch him nourishment. Three evenings from tonight, he would be hosting a grand masquerade at his summer palace in Budapest. To make the game more fair, he had invited over forty women and their companions. (Which he would take care of later.)

That night as well, a huge banquet would be set, and the cyanide would be poured. All except one "lucky" woman would die. He would leave that up to fate to choose. The Count couldn't help but smile at this, hopefully he would live up to his reputation. After all, there would be important members of the vampire court to impress. He had invited 20 of the court's highest ranking nobles. If he was other unoccupied, even the Grand Duke himself was rumored to make a possible appearance. If all went well, Dracula was confident that it would be a thrilling night that his vampiric counterparts would not forget for centuries to come. He let his mind wander for a moment, then went back to reading one of his favorite philosophy books. Ah, the abstract ideas of mortals.

//

The cabbie at this point in time, had put his discomfort, numbed limbs and all, behind him. He was now facing an could attempt to make the full journey to the village of Slaevin, which by his calculations, shouldn't be much farther than 20 minutes away, or simply stop at the next village or town. He was hoping to put the first plan into play, as he was unsure whether or not another town existed between here and Slaevin. By now the snow was coming down in sheets, and his visibility was very limited. It would be extremely dangerous to go much farther, and he had to consider not only his own safety, but the safety of his passengers. He squinted through the din and saw a tall, black shape looming into view,...a castle! Elated, he goaded the horses onward. He could only hope that the castle would have a kind master.

Moira's eyes snapped open. "Where are we?" She asked groggily. "We should be very near Slaevin by now. If not already there." Moira then sheepishly realized she was talking to herself. Viktor too, had fallen asleep, with his arm draped around her. With one gloved hand she drew back the window curtains to peer out, and observe the snow was piling up in drifts as they ambled slowly along, now out of the forest. With her other hand, she shook Viktor's shoulder gently. As she did so, the carriage jerked to an abrupt halt. "Mmmm, what?" Viktor asked groggily, jerking awake. "We've stopped." Moira replied plainly.

"That's strange, we shouldn't have." He quickly drew back the curtains on his side of the carriage. "Hm, this can't possibly be Slaevin. I hope our driver is alright. I'll go, you stay here." Viktor instructed Moira. He had exited the carriage before she could tell him different. Moira sighed and leaned back against the cushioned seat. She kicked the seat adjacent from her, in a childish and embarrassingly futile display of her frustration that only led to an injured foot. "Ouch!" She exclaimed, drawing back. The pain radiated in her foot, each throb resonating like laughter and mocking her weak state.."Why can't I be more assertive?" She asked wistfully as she put her foot up on the adjacent seat and attempted to rub it through the toe of her boot.

A cacophony of mocking voices answered her back, making her forget about the pain in her foot and instead focus on the pounding of discordant voices in her skull. Moira rubbed her temples in an effort to block it all out. She jumped as she heard a rattling noise. It was only Viktor, clambering back into the carriage, shivering with cold and coated from head to toe with a dusting of thick snow. "The cabbie says that it's too dangerous to travel much farther. Were we to set out for the village, we probably wouldn't make it." Viktor informed her. Moira's face fell. "But don't worry." Viktor assured her. "There looks to be some sort of castle ahead, and the cabbie is going to stop there, and inquire if we may spend the night at most, if this snowstorm grows more aggressive. Or stay for a few hours at least, hopefully it will have dissipated by then."

Moira smiled slightly, this was her chance to speak up. "A decent plan, I see nothing wrong with it except our driver seemed to have overlooked the glaring fact that perhaps the Master or Mistress of the castle may not want company this evening." She said calmly. "Be reasonable Viktor, we can't stay here! We'll ruddy well freeze to death." Viktor exhaled. "Well, I suppose we'll just have to take our chances then. And, really Moira, what are the odds of that happening? There are probably only a few cruel heartless souls who would deny weary travellers such as we shelter and a warm place to sleep for the evening. Really, you worry too much." Moira scowled. She had been beaten down again by Viktor's logic. After a few, silent stuffy minutes, they stopped again. Moira flippantly drew back the curtain. They were stopped a few feet away from the castle, and the cabbie was walking down the path to go knock on the door.

An ugly, peaked faced man answered the door. It had creaked open with an eerie foreboding. "Hello Sir. Is your Master at home? This storm is worsening and I do not wish to endanger the safety of my two passengers by continuing any further." He rubbed his gloved hands together for warmth. The peak-faced man answered, "No sir. I am afraid my Master is indisposed at the moment. However, we may be able to provide temporary shelter for your passengers." He said with a surly smile. "Thank you kindly sir." The cabbie replied gratefully. "If you were to reject my plea for help, I would not know what to do. You see, there is a young woman and her travelling companion in my charge. The lady is of poor health and I do not wish to worsen her already fragile condition by exposing her to the cold longer than necessary." The greasy man nodded solemnly. "But of course Sir. We will attend to the lady and see that she is well cared for during her stay here."

//

The cabbie walked back to the carriage to fetch his passengers. Viktor opened the door and Moira took his arm so that he could assist her in alighting. The walk was blessedly short, and soon all three were enveloped in the relaxing warmth of the castle. Any feelings of doubt vanished from Moira's head as soon as she had crossed the threshold. Viktor followed the man a small drawing room off to the side of the main entrance. "Excuse me, but, where did you say your Master was again? I would love to thank him personally for his hospitality."

"My Master is an intrapersonal man. He prefers to only show himself when necessary." Igor said, tacking on a brief introduction. Viktor could not help but observe the curious fashion in which Igor had observed Moira. He finally, after what seemed to him like hours, Igor left the room.

Moira raised her eyes to look at Viktor. Anger flashed within them. Viktor nearly drew back a step at the force of her gaze. "Viktor...please don't." She said, struggling to keep her voice steady and forceful. Viktor's look turned baleful. "Don't what Moira?" Moira closed her eyes and exhaled, drawing strength from within her. When she looked up again, her gaze was even more intense. "I really, really can't stand when you treat me like a dying kitten, or a porcelain doll. I may be ill for goodness sakes, but I'm not going to suddenly crack into pieces when your back is turned!" Viktor sighed, "Is this what it's all about? Moira, listen..." Moira turned away from him and walked over to the window and glared out at the swirling snow. "I hate how it gets dark so early." She whispered to herself, pressed so close to the window that her breath fogged up the glass.

Viktor, deciding he would have no luck convincing Moira to forgive him for some time, left her in the cabbie's company and went off to do some exploring of his own. He slowly walked down the main hallway of the castle, noting the various primeval weapons affixed to the walls, in addition to a long line of portraits and decent sized shelves of books along one wall. The portraits mostly contained beautiful women, probably long dead. And what looked to be a very recent portrait of a man with long, black hair, and an expression on his face of supreme confidence. There could be no mistake in identifying this man as his host, the Master of the castle. Viktor paged through a few of the books, which were, for the most part, in some sort of foreign tongue he wasn't acquainted with, or their pages were too waterlogged to make out the words. When he heard footsteps, Viktor quickly ducked back into the fire-lit drawing room.

"Three rooms have been prepared for you. You are quite lucky that this castle can accomodate so many. The master is housing all of his guests here, until the masquerade ball in three days." Igor explained. "A masquerade?" Moira asked, turning from the window, her sullen mood seeming to have entirely dissipated because of the mention of one word. "May we attend?"

Viktor looked at her exasperatedly, before making an excuse, as if she were a child."I am sure Moira understands that you may not wish us to, as we barged in most unexpectedly, and, if the storm clears by tomorrow morning, we shall likely soon be taking our leave." Moira gaped at Viktor, open-mouthed. She couldn't believe he was speaking to her in such a demeaning fashion! "Plus, we have nothing to wear, and everything in our suitcases would be ill suited for the occasion." He went on to say.

"Oh please, Viktor!" Moira said quickly, hoping to get a word in edgewise. "What if I'm feeling better? I'm sure one of the ladies around here has an extra gown that she could be so kind as to lend me, and I'm sure you can find a suit for a kindly gentleman to lend you." Igor nodded. "We will arrange something for the both of you. The Master will be so very pleased to have you attend."

The cabbie now just realized he had left the carriage out in the snow. One quick look and he saw the carriage, horses and all, was gone. "Your horses and your carriage are being safely housed in our stables, I assure you." Igor said, and cleared his throat. "It is late, shall I show you to your rooms?" Moira and Viktor nodded. Igor took a lit candelabra and ascended the stairs with the three guests in tow.

//

Marishka and Aleera had watched the carriage pull up to the castle, and had hung on every word of their conversation from their perch atop a pair of spires. "That little imp of a thing, that girl...she is so weak it's humorous. She won't last long at all. If the Master doesn't choose that little bleary-eyed ingénue, that cyanide in her wine will spread through her body and the poison will wrap around her little heart before she can see the others drop dead before her eyes." Marishka observed cruelly, malice reflecting in her green eyes. "I agree. She doesn't have a sporting chance. Although, her escort, I must admit, I do find most appealing. Do you think the Master will allow me the privilege of finishing him off?" Aleera pondered aloud. Moira rolled her eyes, "Are looks all that matter to you? It's his blood I craved. The smell was so sweet and pungent, I had to restrain myself from diving down and plucking him up and draining him right there!" She laughed sourly. Aleera pouted. "Well...erm...The cabbie! He is unimportant and will surely not be missed. Plus, he is the only driver still present here. All the others dropped off their passengers and left. After all, he is quite a portly fellow. Perhaps we can share him?" Marishka sighed heavily. "Well...alright. But now now. We must be patient. And we shan't forget to consult the Master before doing anything."

Aleera nodded enthusiastically. "Of course! That should tide us over, because the Master did say not to feed on any of his guests. Including the escorts, which is quite a pity indeed..." She trailed off. "Judging by the size of him, it'll take both of us to move him. Let alone wring his fat neck!" Marishka jeered. Both vampiresses laughed cruelly, the sound of which was quickly carried away on the wind. They changed quickly back into bat form and flew inside through their open windows

//

Once the recently arrived "Guests" were situated, Igor paid a visit to his Master. Dracula's head snapped up when he heard the door creak open. "What is it Igor?" He drawled, making it obvious that he wanted to be left alone to attend to his plans for the masque. Igor shuffled awkwardly into the room. "Master, three people have sought shelter from the cold and the raging snowstorm. I hope you do not mind that I invited them to stay the night, since the blizzard outside is worsening, and we did have extra rooms." Igor braced himself, as if waiting for the Count to strike him. "What?" Dracula asked with a hint of curiosity in his tone. "One of the travellers is a young lady who is of poor health. Her name is Moira. And, she is the only reason I accepted them into the castle." Dracula's furrowed brow relaxed. "Perfect. One more little guest to join in on our game. She is the one to tip the scales and raise the stakes. Who knows, perhaps even she may ultimately survive this ordeal. " Dracula added darkly, with a sour chuckle.

"Let the little princesses sleep snugly in their beds for now. In three nights' time, trusts will be made and broken, and temporary friendships will be forged. No one will be aware of anyone else's identity. I will make it so that no one will think twice of taking off their mask. Else they face the consequences." He said, smirking. "At exactly midnight, everyone will sit down to a lavish supper, and my little surprise of the evening will be revealed. Meanwhile, I can amuse myself by imagining the face of the one blessedly fortunate lady who will be left alive." Igor grinned. "A brilliant plan indeed, Master." Dracula turned sullen again. "Now, leave me." He said solemnly, shooing Igor away with a wave of his hand. Igor shuffled out of the room and closed the door behind him.


	3. New Friends

Van Helsing was sitting on a roughly hewn stool in a seedy, ramshackle Romanian bar. It was snowing very hard, and it looked as these would be his quarters for the night. He had already secured himself a room. He had been to this part of Romania before, and the owners of the tavern had not forgotten the favor he had done for them all those years ago. So, he would sleep in his room tonight with all the money he had arrived here with. Van Helsing didn't dare think of himself as a well-liked person, more of an unlikely, (and most of the time unwanted) hero.

The man across from him was speaking in hushed, pleading tones. He was very old and very, very scared. His gnarled fingers slid a few currency notes across the worn, unsteady table. "Please take them." He begged in Romanian, his voice raising in Helsing merely shook his head. "I cannot accept your money. Please allow me to take care of this pest free of charge my dear Sir." Normally, Van Helsing would have taken pay were it offered, but he had felt a pang of sympathy in his heart for this old man. He was interested in hearing what had made him so scared, and thought it would be unfair to take money from him, as it seemed the fellow didn't have much in his pockets to begin with.

The old man then slid a time worn, much creased sepia photograph of a young woman across the table. "My granddaughter, sir." He continued, his hands shaking. He took deep swig of his beer in an attempt to calm his nervous spirits. "Her parents are both dead. And now, he has her." The man Helsing picked up the photograph with a gloved hand. "She is very beautiful. I can see why she is of interest to him." He remarked, and pocketed the photograph for future reference.

"You see why I worry. She has gone to live with her other wealthy grandmother, on her father's side. I have not seen her in four years. She is twenty-two now. It was in her parents' will that she be sent to live with her. Lady Katherine is very controlling, and refuses to let Aurelia see anyone from her mother's side of the family. She was furious when she realized that Damon had married beneath him. Her arrogant, blue blood temperament is keeping me from seeing the only family I have. My wife passed away some years ago, and now I live alone.

I do however, take comfort in the fact that my Aurelia is living a better life with the her than I could ever give her. She has money, a title, a secure place in society. I thank the Lord each night that her grandmother had taken a liking to her and not thrown her out onto the streets.

Unforunately, all those aspects of her life that are blessings can also be considered curses. That is what drew him to her. That, and she is not the brightest of young women. Her grandmother seems to have impressed upon her that her value lies in her beauty, and does not even attempt to foster her intelligence. In her letters, she talks of how lovely her life is, how much she misses me and wishes me to visit. She never speaks anything of books, or intelligence. The deepest thing she has written is a contemplation of which gown she wishes to buy next. This is how I know all that I am sharing with you, Sir."

Now, she is staying at his castle...for his masquerade. I have heard talk, Van Helsing, and none of it is anything I wish to hear. It only makes me worry more and more about her safety. Promise that you will put a stop to this mad game."

Van Helsing took a deep breath and solemnly nodded. "You have my word that your granddaughter will be returned to you safely. The man of which you is a creature of the night, and vanquishing him will not be easy. But, it is a challenge I am all too happy to accept."

For once, the man looked absolutely at peace. His features relaxed and his hands stopped shaking. He sighed. "Forgive me, I have gotten myself so worked up that I've forgotten to introduce myself. My name is Richard Dimir." He extended his hand, and Van Helsing shook it. Even this small gesture of camaraderie was a breath of fresh air for him.

Van Helsing coughed and looked at the large coo-coo clock positioned on the wall of the tavern. "I should be going now." Richard said. "Thank you again, for your help, Gabriel. If you will not accept money, I will find some other way to repay you." Van Helsing shook his head. 'I assure you Richard, you owe me nothing. I'm merely doing my job." Richard shrugged balefully. "If you insist, Gabriel." The two men shook hands, and Richard picked up his cloak and left the tavern.

Van Helsing still remained at the table, and pulled out Aurelia's photograph. He held it up in the dying candlelight, watching it flicker on her noble, blue-blood features. He could tell that she was Richard's granddaughter, although she only subtly looked like him. He tried to imagine what this girl could possibly be doing right now. Had Dracula gotten to her? Was it too late?

His thoughts were interrupted by the clinking of a beer mug on the wooden table. "Courtesy of the gentleman over there." The barmaid said cheerily, nodding towards a cloaked figure sitting a few tables over, near the fire. Van Helsing tried to raise his glass in thanks to the mysterious patron, but only ended up balefully setting it down when he realized that the stranger was looking not at him, but at the tavern door. It was as if the stranger was looking at something Van Helsing could not see.

Without a word, the stranger got up from the table. They brushed past him without a word. Although, he could have sworn he saw the swoosh of a skirt from under the thick, heavy cloak pulled about their personage. Something clattered to the ground, although Van Helsing did not hear it as the door closing blocked this noise out completely. He reached down and picked up the article the woman had dropped. It was a silver hairpin with a metal rose engraved onto it. Two intials became visible once he held the trinket up to the candlelight. Squinting he picked out the initials _A..D. _embossed in a fancy scroll on the pin. Was this a clue, or some sort of awkward coincedence? Van Helsing pondered this as he ascended the stairs of the tavern with the hairpin tucked away in his pocket.

//

Moira slept fitfully her first evening in the castle. She tossed, she turned, and although she lay on silken pillows and damask sheets, she just could not get felt like rocks were digging into her back, and hot coals were stinging her face. Eventually, she gave up trying to go to sleep altogether. Moira quietly drew back the covers and got out of bed. Her silk slippers muffled any noise her footsteps could have possibly made as she exited the room and walked down the hallway. She grabbed a lit candalabra from one of the walls and made her way through the darkness.

A floorboard creaked behind her. She froze, like a statue. A voice cut through the silence. "Who's there?" It was meek and feminine, akin to her own. Moira slowly turned around and came face to face with a girl. She was thin and pretty with big innocent eyes and a cloak draped about her shoulders. Snowflakes still lay embedded in her auburn hair, like tiny sparkling stars. It was cold in the castle halls that these remnants of the outdoors had no melted yet. "What are you doing out so late?" Moira asked, momentarily forgetting her place.

"I could ask the same of you. In your nightclothes no less." The girl's tone was playful. "Oh..." Moira said sheepishly, looking down at her blue silken nightgown. "I couldn't sleep you see. I have terrible insomnia when I sleep someplace new. At least for the first night." Moira coughed. "I'm sorry if I sounded rude in my inquiry. You're under no obligation to tell me where you were. It wasn't even my place to ask." She apologized. The girl shook her head. "You are forgiven. In fact, I'm sort of glad you asked. Now I have someone to share my story with. And, when I am done, you are by all means, entitled to share yours. If you want to, that is. As a thanks for lending me your ear, I'd like to invite you to come to my room Miss er...." She trailed off. "Moira." Moira finished. "Moira DeCicco. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss..."

"Aurelia Dimir." The girl finished, adding a small curtsy. She had a distinctive accent that Moira knew, after hearing her speak for a bit was Romanian. She must have thought Moira very strange, with her dignified accent and habits of sneaking around at night. "Pleased to meet you Aurelia." Moira said, as she fell into step beside her soon to be hostess. "Forgive me, but, your accent. Am I right to place is as Romanian?" She asked. Aurelia nodded, her curls casting shadows on her neck as they bobbed in the candlelight. "Yes, you are quite right. I am Romanian, born and bred here. Up until the deaths of my parents a few years ago, I lived with them in our quaint little village.. They were carried off by a plague that took nearly half of our village. I was then sent to live with my grandmother. She introduced me to a life of class, societal worth, and wealth. All of the sudden I was thrust into the spotlight. I had fancy gowns, suitors, and a circle of dignified friends who would likely have turned up their nose at the sight of me before my transformation...."

Moira listened intently to Aurelia's story, pausing at the right moments and nodding when necessary. "I recieved my inviation to this masque a few weeks ago. And, now here I am." Aurelia had perfectly timed her story so that she was finished when they reached the entrance to her room. "Your past is very interesting." Moira remarked, once they had settled down inside. "You've asked if I'd like to recount my story now. And I think it's only fair." So she began, unspooling a seamless and elaborate lie, smoothing over everything awful, leaving out the voices, the crying, the unexpalined injuries. All reflected a good childhood, except for her parents' death. "We are both orphans." Aurelia remarked, once Moira had finished. "I suppose we must stick together then." Moira mused. "I suppose we could be considered friends now...although we haven't exactly know each other that long." Aurelia said, giggling softly as to not wake anyone else in the castle up."Yes." Moira said. "I think we shall, in time, get become very good friends." She nodded. "Oh Aurelia. I would like to thank you for the tea and company, but I really must make my way back to my own room now." Aurelia stood. "Wait, before you go. May I tell you something, Moira?"

Moira paused with her hand on the doorknob. "Yes, anything." She said, turning to look at Aurelia. "The reason that I was out so late, is that I was at a tavern. I was going to enlist the help of a famed vampire hunter to help me, but I could not bring myself to speak with him. You see, my grandfather was there. Talking to him....about me. How he feared for my safety. How he too realized the Count is a dangerous man....who may not even be human. I believe that the Count is....a vampire, Moira." Aurelia turned away from her and sighed. "Now I fear that you won't want to be friends anymore after I've told you this. You think I'm crazy, don't you?" She asked, turning back around.

Moira shook her head. "I don't think you're crazy, perhaps maybe a bit misguided. You don't really think it is possible such creatures exist, do you?" She asked cynically, pressed a handkerchief to her mouth to muffle a ragged cough. "Are you alright?" Aurelia asked. Moira nodded. "Well...yes, I do believe that vampires exist, Moira. I've seen my own people attacked by them. When I was very young, my village was attacked. Many people were snatched up by the vampires...in bat form...drained of blood right there on the spot, and then thrown down again as if they were mere petty playthings than people." Aurelia's voice shook as she recounted the horrible event.

Moira's brow furrowed. "That's horrible. To see something like that when you were so young." Aurelia nodded. "It's stayed with me the rest of my life. A vampire hunter was able to take care of them, and send them back to where they came from. Which is why I sought help from the man in the tavern. I fear this masquerade is just another disguise for one of the Count's nefarious plans." Aurelia said worriedly. Moira nodded. "Yes, well. I'll discuss this with you in the morning. Thank you again." Then, she exited the room.

Moira had walked a few steps before she realized she was in total darkness and had forgotten the candelabra in Aurelia's room. She was just about to back for it, when she heard a familiar, slimy voice sound from behind her. "Is Mistress lost? It isn't good for a lady to be wandering the halls at night. It just isn't proper." Moira slowly turned around and discovered the voice belonged to Igor, we was lumbering down the hallway slowly, a replacement candelabra in his hand. "May I escort you back to your room, Miss Moira?" Moira nodded. "Yes, if you please Igor." She made a point of making no further conversation with this man.

They walked silently back to Moira's room. The only detectable sounds were Moira's own, soft breathing in contrast to Igor's heavy labored breathing. And the sound of his heavy footfalls on the carpet. "Here you are." He said, and Moira said a silent prayer of thanks once they reached her room. "Thank you, and good night." Moira said quickly, slipping into her room and closing the door quickly behind her. Once inside, she did not make a move until she was sure that Igor had walked away and wasn't hovering outside her door. Moira took a deep breath, tucked herself back in, and interestingly enough, had absolutely no trouble falling asleep then.


End file.
